Lament of the Broken
by Dawn of Chaos
Summary: A brand new home with a dark past. He should have just left, he shouldn't have inquired further. But he couldn't just leave without hearing what the dead boy had to say.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** A brand new some with a dark past. He should have just left, he shouldn't have inquired further. But he couldn't just leave without hearing what the dead boy had to say.

Happy Halloween All!

Anyways, since I've already posted 2, yes 2, Halloween fictions, I decided to start this little thing. It's quite different from Calling All Angels and I decided I'd premiere it tonight. I absolutely love the ideas I have for this, I just hope i can get them all out. So I figured, let's put it into several parts, similar to how I'm doing Amnesia.

Anyways, Grimmjow, I had a second thought to switch him with another character. But I like how I can use his ... stubbornness to my advantage.

Enjoy and tell me what ya think! I want to hear your thoughts!

* * *

Lament of the Broken

Part 1

* * *

I cast my ice blue eyes down to the clipboard with a small stack of papers on it. Slim pale fingers hand me a white ballpoint pen. Taking it with a grunt, I scribble my name across the dotted line on the bottom of each page. Her kind gray eyes never leave my moving hand, as her fingers tuck back a strand of long orange hair. A plain black skirt swirls around her knees, met by a thin blue shirt underneath a jacket. Handing the clipboard and pen back to her, I run my hand through my short, spiky, electric blue hair. "Enjoy the house Mr. Jaegerjaquez." She smiles, leaving me standing at the curb before my new house.

It's nothing special. A small two bedroom, two bath house. The exterior of gray house could use some new paint, and the black trim is already fading, but I had to buy it the second I set my eyes on it. The overgrown grass reaches up past my ankles as I stride up the pathway to the front door, a single suitcase in my hand. Glancing back to my navy pickup truck, I sigh, knowing I'll have to make a good three or four trips to get all my stuff inside. Thankfully, Orihime, my realtor, told me that all the furniture and appliances were left in the house.

Walking up the few steps leading up to the porch, I pull out the keys, which I had pocketed earlier. As I insert the key and twist it, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Sparing a glance to my right, I see only a small metal table with two chairs sitting in front of a darkened window. Growling, I open the door with a slight shove, leaving it idling open as I step forward into the living room to the right. The walls are a paneled dark brown, matching the light brown hardwood floor, with no pictures adorning the walls. Setting my brown suitcase next to the couch, which has plastic laid over it, I move over to the window I had looked at from the outside. Pulling back the pale gossamer drapes, I let the sunshine of the afternoon filter into the room through the dirty glass. Flicking on the light-switch as I walk away from it, I bask in the light that springs into the room from the hanging lights.

Leaving it at that, I pick up my bag and venture further into the house. A kitchen sits to the left, across from the living room. From the kitchen's dark state, I can see that the floor is the same throughout this level of the house, except for in there, the walls are a light sea-foam green. On the other side of the living room, I can see a type of dining room with a shape idling in the corner of it, probably more furniture.

Continuing forward, I begin up the stairs, which can be seen from anyone in the door. As I get to the first platform, my procession is halted by the sound of the door slamming shut. Peering over the rail, I snort, passing it off for the air flow in the room. After the next two platforms, I'm at the second floor, which is darker than the lower level. Running my hand along the wall, I find a switch. Light explodes along the hallway from the various fixtures along it. A room is diagonal to me, while another is diagonal from that one, a bathroom at the end of the hall. Over my shoulder is a wall, apparently the closet is downstairs.

Moving forward, the heels of my boots pound against the wooden floor. Coming to the first door, I open it, seeing it practically barren. Pure white walls contrast with that of the deep brown of the floor, appearing almost as if it's new. The only things in there are; a large metal bed frame, a dusty dresser, and a nightstand next to the bed. Backing out of it, I shut the door and move to the next room, not caring about the scoff marks in from the the closed door. Twisting the knob, I let it swing open as I walk in. This room, is far more livelier compared to the other. A light shade of forest green decorates the walls, while plush ebony carpet lines the floor. The wooden dresser is so dark, it appears black, yet lighter compared to the flooring. Connected to said dresser, is an oval mirror, dust covering the thin glass. A medium sized table of the same tree sits against next to the window closer to the left, a single identical chair, with a green seat cover, rests in front of it. The window farther to the right casts dim rays of light onto the bed, a plastic sheet over deep green sheets and black comforter.

Discarding my bag by the dresser, I pull back the transparent gray curtains that shield the windows, as well as the closet. Nothing is left in that space, only a slim black jacket hanging from a wire hanger. Rolling up the sleeves of my white button-up shirt, I begin folding up the plastic that covers the bed. Setting it on the floor, I plop onto the edge of the bed, surprised by the perfect quality it's stayed in.

_It's like this room is the one thing in this house that stands out from the rest. That it's in a whole world of its own, not to be bothered by that of the other areas of the house._ I guess since I don't have money for a mattress.

Leaving the door open, I make my way back downstairs to get the rest of my things. As I make my way through the living room, I peel the plastic off of the black leather couches. Striding out the door, I prop it open a piece of wood from the porch, which I assume was the doorstop to begin with. Trekking to the bed of the truck, I glance over my shoulder, up to the second-story window. Seeing nothing, as I had expected, I brush it off and begin the task of hauling in my things.

_Bad thing about a new city, no friends, family, or connections. If it weren't for this construction job, I wouldn't have moved all the way out of Hueco Mundo and to Seireitei. It's such a bustling city as it is, why do they need more buildings. _

Thanks to the muscle I've built up from my job, carrying in the remaining suitcases, medium TV, and a box of miscellaneous things; such as trinkets, sheets, toiletries, and personal items. With the towels, I had bought, in the pristine, full tiled, white bathroom upstairs and downstairs, added to everything else being dropped off in that green room, I'm spent. Flopping onto the couch, I switch the TV on. The news trails on about crime and weather, and I find myself not caring. Picking myself up, I saunter into the kitchen, filling myself a glass of water and grabbing a bag of chips from the plastic bag I had thrown up onto the counter earlier. Leaning against the counter, I let my thoughts wander.

_I defiantly have to go to the store tomorrow. I am not living off chips._

That's when it hits me. Letting the empty glass tumble into the sink and the chip-less bag float down onto the counter, I throw my gaze back through the door-less pane, staring at the TV. The blank screen tells me that it had been off, even though I know it was on.

Shrugging, I turn the kitchen light off and head for the stairs, flicking off another switch that controls the living room. My body begins the climb, weary of the technical and hassle filled day it had been through. A chill sails up along my spine as I pass the first room and into the second. Comfort fills my body as I open my suitcases and pull out a pair of sweats and a ratty, white t-shirt. Slinging them onto the bed, I make it a goal to put my clothes and stuff away tomorrow.

Shutting the door, I walk under the illumination from the hall lights, all the way to the bathroom. All of a sudden, I find myself darting inside and slamming the door shut. Pressing my back against the now closed door, I try to slow my heart rate, not sure why I did that.

Slamming my palm to my forehead, I curse at myself for being so stupid. That's defiantly not how I act. I'm the tough one, able to beat and overcome anything in my way. I must still be getting use to being in this place. From the outside it looked heavenly, I had no guarantee of the inside. I need to calm down.

Opening the cabinet above the sink, the mirror embedded in it shines with the light streaming from the ceiling, I pull out my toothbrush and toothpaste. Closing the door back, I begin brushing my teeth, bending down, because of my tall frame, to spit the foam out. Turning the water on, I gulp some into my mouth and proceed to swish it around. Spitting that out as well, I straighten, nearly jumping out of my skin like a cat that just got sprayed unexpectedly by water. Running my hand over my face, I slow my beating heart back down to normal.

_I did _not _see anything. So, why am I freaking out? Well...it is Halloween. Maybe I just have the jitters, nah that can't be it. Must be nerves, because of the bills I gotta pay at the end of the month, yeah, that's it._

Slipping out of my clothes, I turn the hot water on and jump inside, closing the equally white, see-through, plastic curtain. Grabbing at the shampoo I had brought in earlier, I let the shower head pelt my back. Letting the water rinse out my hair, I just stand there, in complete relaxation. Until the water beings scalding me. Leaping out of reach, I hear the toilet flush. Letting the water normalize in temperature, I hurry up and get out, wrapping a towel around my waist after drying off.

I feel my feet rush me out and down the hall, eager to get back that room. Shutting the door, I resist the urge to lock it. Walking over to my clothes, I start putting them on as I scold myself. "I shouldn't be so paranoid, no reason to. I'm just making an idiot out of myself. I'm glad Yylfordt isn't here, he'd laugh until he's purple." Chuckling at that, I pull turn the lights off and make my way under the sheets. Staring up at the ceiling, I feel my eyes drift shut, the sound of the crickets lulling me to sleep.

Sitting up out of bed, I look up just in time to see the door slam shut. Quirking an eyebrow, I groan as I get, opening the door. Looking around the corner, I see alabaster feet kicking the floor as the person belonging to them is drug down the stairs.

Anger fills me at the thought of someone being in my house and then having someone with them, possibly hurting them.

A hard plunk meets each yelp as they make it down the stairs. Running to the stairwell, I stare down, to see those feet, sticking out from jeans, being hauled into the kitchen.

Just as I get to the last platform, I hear a blood curdling scream echo in my ears. Fear and fury bubble inside of me as I leap past the remaining steps, landing with a loud thud, yet graceful as a feline. My fingers curl around door frame as I skid around the corner and into the kitchen. I stop dead as my feet land in a slightly warm substance.

I follow the trail of dark liquid to that of the legs, which connect to a torso in a black shirt. Slender fingers are wrapped around the hilt of a butcher knife embedded in the stomach. Eyes wandering further, I see short, black tousled hair covering deep emerald, glassy from the blood loss. Tears leak from his eyes as another set of fingers press against his throat. Words try to form from the black top lip and bottom white lip, but no sound comes, only red.

A deep chuckle captures my attention and I swivel around, glaring into the darkness only to see deep brown eyes and bloodied hands.

"H-Help...m-me..." come the two words from those lips, that are now painted crimson.

Launching myself up into a sitting position, I cradle my head in my hands, letting my elbows rest on my raised knees. A thin layer of sweat coats my body, making my clothes stick to my skin. Regulating my breathing, I collapse back into the mattress, letting my gaze stare out the window and lock onto the full moon.

_I've never been scared of the dark before..._


	2. Chapter 2

_I meant to post this sooner. But there will only be a few more parts. Just enough._

* * *

Lament of the Broken  
2

* * *

The rest of the night, I had slept barely a wink. Every once in awhile, I would drift back into sleep, only to be shown those horrifying images once again. The eyes of that male as he slowly dies, knowing I can't help him in the least. Finally, my alarm clock buzzes as 6AM rolls around. Clicking the little thing off, I stare at it, one of the only things I had bothered to unpack last night. Swinging my legs over the lip of the bed, my feet are unwelcome by the cool carpet.

Moving over to my bags, I get to work on hanging my shirts, jackets, and pants, while my boots and tennis shoes sit in the bottom. As I do, I dress into a pair of worn jeans and a button-up blue shirt, leaving it flapping open. Slipping my into a pair of blue and black tennis shoes, I turn my attention to the task ahead.

Opening up the bottom drawer, I place all the folded old shirts and pants in it. As I pull out the top drawer, I feel my heart sink into my stomach. Sitting in the middle of the drawer, are two small books. One is pure black, with a silver number 4 drawn on it. The other is pure white, nothing adorning it, but golden swirls around the corners. Setting them on the top of the dresser, I return to placing socks and boxers in that one.

Coming back to the items I had found, I leave them on the bed after I make it back, only setting a couple bottles of cologne and a picture or two of friends. Satisfied with a job well done, I place the suitcase in the back of the closet and fold up the boxes. Carrying them out of the room, I head downstairs. Stacking said boxes in the closet, I stride away, letting the closet door shut. Nearing the front door, I grab my keys off the of hook next to it.

_Wait a second. My keys...were in...my pants from yesterday._

"Whatever." I mumble as I feel myself hurrying out the door, not wanting to be late for my first job.

Running a hand through hair, I glance at my truck's radio, 11AM. All the other guys have left for their lunch break, but I was told to go home. I don't mind though, I have a house to fix up. Cranking the pickup, I back out of the construction site, dirt swirling in the air.

On the way home I stop at the grocery store. Striding inside, I grab a basket that I can simply carry, knowing I only have enough for a day or two. The gray tiled floor passes underneath me as I go, only picking up milk, butter, cheese, a couple steaks, and some pasta. The emptiness of the store makes it easy for me to go straight up to checkout.

Placing my things on the conveyer belt, a young girl smiles at me, even though her gray eyes seem vaguely uninterested. Ebony hair molds to her soft cheekbones and down the nape of her neck, some falling between her eyes. The white shirt holds her black name-tag, ivory print stating that her name is Rukia. Pulling out my wallet, as she rings the items up, her eyes never leave me. Bagging and placing said items back into the petite, white basket, she glances at the register. Following her gaze, I check the amount, barely over thirty-five. Reaching in for some money, I go to hand it to her. "Are you new to Seireitei?"

"Yeah, that would be me. Name's Grimmjow."

She takes the money, "If you don't mind me asking, are you the one that bought the house on 4th Street?" I nod, her eyes widening ever so slightly. Dipping her hand into her pocket, Rukia hands me the change, as well as a business card. "If you ever have...unexplainable things happen, call that number. There's also an email."

Staring at it, the maroon, cursive print reads SPT, and underneath that is a name, Byakuya Kuchiki, followed by a number and email. I slip both into my pocket, not minding it. "Thanks." I pick up my basket and head for the door, giving a curt wave over my shoulder.

With the groceries in the seat next to me, I sit behind the wheel, staring at the business card. All around the trim of the card, reads the full name of this group; Seireitei Paranormal Team. Sliding it into one of the slots in my wallet, I forget about it.

_I'm just paranoid. That girl is paranoid. There's no such things as ghosts._

In no time at all, I'm pulling up into the driveway of my house, because it's certainly not a home just yet. Carrying the two bags, I unlock the door, dropping the keys on the table beside it, and go straight to the kitchen. As I put away everything into the fridge and freezer, my movements slow at the sound of a soft melody coming from the dining room. My brows draw together as I stomp in that direction.

Flicking on the light, I glare at the shape in the corner, plastic still draped over it. Shoulders slumping, I head to it, yanking the dusty tarp away. A gleaming, ebony piano sits before me, with white keys all in perfect shape. Collapsing onto the left edge of the bench, facing the table, I let a finger press one down, a deep note bellowing from it. Not less than a second later, a high-pitch note comes from the other side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a pale hand retract from said key.

Snapping around, I'm met with the other end of the half-empty bench. Glaring at the crimson cushioned seat, I shove myself upward, not wanting to stay in here any longer. About to walk out the door-less room, my fingers linger over the light switch, as a slow songs begins to pick up.

I idle there, listening to the sorrowful tune, a tune only a skilled pianist could play. It stays around the same pitch, only picking up at the climax, before falling back down, a full two or three minute ballad. Finally, my joints seem to thaw and I turn back around, the keys as still as statue.

I find myself sighing once again as I flick the lights off, walking away to return to the living room. The music continues to emit from the piano and I find myself enjoying it rather than worrying. Glancing at the clock, I see that it's still early in the day. Making my way outside, I let the fall breeze drift around me. Shutting the door tight, I go around the side of the house, finding a small worn shed. Prying the wooden door open, I see a lawn mower resting inside. Rolling it out, I press the black button on this red machine, and yank the choke. Surprising enough, it starts right up, even though it's probably been years since it's been used last.

Before I know it, I've finished the lawn, as tedious as it was. As I had done so, no neighbors had so much as glanced at me when leaving or arriving. It's almost as if fear was holding them back, keeping them distant. Lifting the bottom of my shirt up, I wipe my face, scoffing lightly. "Tch, whatever." Dragging my worn body up the few steps to the front door, I open it, walking inside.

Yet, before I can close it, the knob is ripped from my grip, slamming shut behind me. Staring at it, the cold air around me is only intensified by the light coat of sweat. Striding quickly over to the thermostat by the closet, but as my eyes lock onto it, I realize that the air condition hadn't even been on.

Cursing under my breath, I make my way up the stairs, planning on a shower. This time, I take my sweats and shirt in there with me, dressing as soon as I get out. Passing by the barren room, I find myself hurrying by it and down to the first floor. Glaring back up at the second floor, I go into the kitchen, pulling out some of what I had bought.

In a matter of half an hour, I have the steak on a plate, accompanied by a small serving of buttered noodles. Settling down in front of the TV, I can't find myself to turn it on, or go into the dining room. As I slowly go through dinner, I can't help the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Standing up, I go back into the kitchen, putting away the food I couldn't finish in the least.

Standing there, I feel arms wrap around my waist. My cerulean eyes drift down to my stomach, widening at the sight. The blue t-shirt draped over my torso is bundled in what normally would be a fist. Placing my fingers over the place, I notice that they appear to hover, as if on top of someone's own hand.

Just as quick as the sensation appeared, it disappears, all in the moment that a door upstairs slams. Turning away from the sink, I make my way upstairs, wanting to go to bed. Curling up in the black and green sheets, I stare up at the ceiling, slowly letting my eyes drift close. Right before I slip into sleep, I feel something press against my lips. Simply lying there, I can't bring myself to brush it away...it feels too nice.


	3. Chapter 3

_^^; Gomen, for the very very slow update. I sat my butt down and refused to do anything but write. So here it is. ;) I have two endings in mind and I'm not sure which to choose. One's bittersweet (albeit realistic) with light/vague yaoi. And the other has prominent yaoi and is very happy (still semi realistic), so confusing. But anyways, enjoy!_

* * *

Lament of the Broken 3

Waking up in a daze, I instantly become aware of my surroundings. The blankets are curled around me as I lie on my side, one arm beneath the pillow, that my head rests on. With my back facing the door, my eyes only see the drapes billowing in the light breeze from the open window, which had been closed previously. An arm is draped over my side, curling against my fingers that rest under the sheets. I can feel each and every digit of the other hand, as it's pressed up against my back. A leg is between mine, curling underneath one of them.

_I know no one came here last night...I should freak out, jump out of the bed, and run for the door. That's what every other sane person would do. But, the comforting feeling, that comes off of the situation, seems to steady my palpitating heart. What surprises me the most, is that it's nothing more than just what feels like a warm body cuddling against me. Nothing sensual at all._

Squirming my fingers, I flip my hand over, intending to grab a hold of the hand on top of it. As I begin to try to grasp the hand I know is there, I feel my breath get caught in my throat.

_They're...tangible...?_

I exhale slowly, turning over as slowly as I can. My already wide eyes meet that of deep forest green orbs set in a strong, yet softly curved, pale face. Before I can think, I blink automatically, and once I do, the image and feelings are gone. Running my hands over my face, I let out a groan as I slam my fist against the mattress. "Dammit! What the hell is wrong with me!"

I climb out of bed slowly, realizing my alarm hadn't gone off. Marking off the days in my head, I realize that I'll probably be late, and for my second day, that's not good. I begin rushing through the morning ritual.

As I make my way from the bathroom back to my room, I stop dead in my tracks. The door to the unoccupied room slowly begins to open, before creaking back shut. If I had been blind, I would've asked who was there, because the presence of someone is too strong to ignore.

Taking a deep breath, I trudge over to the stairs, passing through a spot of freezing air, so cold that it could probably had frozen hot water. My boots pound the stairs until they're on the first floor, my sunglasses having fallen from their perch on my hair and onto my nose. I place my hand over the t-shirt, where my heart would be, and can literally feel it beating through my chest.

I shake the feeling away, blaming it on pure nonsense. Yet, as I walk forward, I reach for the door, just as it flies open, hitting the left side of my sunglasses. Stumbling backwards, I reach up to pull my sunglasses away. I rub my eye, wanting to see the pain, as well as the headache that's brewing up along with it. Looking out the door, I watch as a figure walks onto the threshold, hands thrust in the pockets of white slacks. A black shirt sits underneath a white jacket, which match the black and white dress shoes on his feet. Wavy, brown hair is pushed back, save for a bundle of strands falling into the view of his face.

Deep brown eyes seem to glare right through me as he takes a step forward, the floor creaking slightly. Once he's in, only a few feet in front of myself, the door slams shut without a single touch. I take a defense step backward as I stare at this intruder. My voice seems to be lost in the midst of being hit in the face and this guy's arrival. All I can do is keep my eyes locked onto his form. I blink, hoping he'll disappear just as everything else has.

But he doesn't, he's still there. He pulls a hand from his pocket, gleaming silver catching my eye as he does. A medium sized steak knife appears in his grasp, long fingers twirled around it in a way that makes him appear an expert at it. Nonetheless, he takes another step forward as his appearance clicks in my mind.

_He's the guy from that dream...those eyes...are the same._

Even with the fear of this guy beating down on me, I spin around, darting toward the stairs. I give a quick glance over my shoulder, as I start up the steps, and see only the knife hovering in mid-air. It rotates, one end over the other, until finally, it builds up enough speed and hurls straight at me.

The whistling of the knife cutting through the frigid air is all I hear as I fall against the steps, the edges digging into my ribs. A dull plunk is all that signals that the knife is out of commission. Rising to my feet, I see it stuck into two stairs above where my head was. With my heart racing, I find myself running up the rest of them and down the short ways of the hallway, to my room. Only opening it enough so I can get in, I shut it hard, running my hand over the panel, just now noticing that there's no lock.

I try to calm my breathing, as I back up to the bed, I sit down. Reaching underneath it, I pull out my bag that houses my laptop, since I had yet to unpack it. I search the walls and find a phone jack just beside the side table. I dig out the cords and hook it all up, turning the laptop on as I do. Finding the first search engine, I look up the house and all it's history, yet I can find nothing on it in the least. After half an hour of looking, I shut it, disgruntled that I had no success whatsoever.

That's when I see the business card sitting on the side table. Picking it up in my fingers, it feels so light compared to the stress weighing on my shoulders, not to mention the headache I still have. I fish my cell phone out of my pocket and dial the number into it.

_I'll always be the last person to admit that there's something going on that I can't see or touch. But I can see and touch what's happening...and I think that's what scares me more than anything._

As I hold the phone up to my ear, I find myself drumming my fingers against my thigh as I sit cross-legged on the unmade bed. After several rings, an emotionless voice sounds through the speaker. "Hello?" Sitting there, I realize that I don't know what I'm supposed to say. The reels in my mind turn as the man on the other end becomes agitated, "Who is this?"

Just before he sounds like he's going to hang up, I find my vocal cords still in excellent condition. "Is this...Byakuya Kuchiki?"

"Yes, now may I ask who this is?"

Anxiety instantly becomes a factor, I don't want to sound like I'm crazy. "Um, yeah my name's Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and I was given your card."

"I see...and?"

"What is SPT?"

"Seireitei Paranormal Team. What is it you want?"

I bite the inside of my cheek. I've never asked for help before, not in anything to be honest. I've either overcome it or gone around the problem. Never the straightforward path. "I think this house I'm living in is haunted and-"

"You think? Mr. Jaegerjaquez, we're very busy people. If we went out on investigations for _everyone_ that _thinks_ the house they're in is haunted, we wouldn't get very far."

Gritting my teeth, I force myself not to scream at the top of my lungs. "Look! I just had a door _slam_ into my face, then a _knife_ thrown at me! Either get off your high friggin horse or hang up the damn phone!"

Silence slowly settles in and for a moment, I honestly think that he hung up on me, except I didn't hear the click or discount signal. No, instead, I hear murmured words and whispered curses as a new voice comes alive through the phone, polite and even. "When would you like us to come over and begin our investigation?"

I let my eyes scan a mental calender.

_Today's Friday and I'm off the next three days...yeah...that's good._

"Tomorrow's fine."

"Will you be okay till then?"

I pull my lip between my teeth, debating on that question as if it were life and death. "Yeah."

"Alright, we'll see you then." and the call ends.


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay, sorry it took so long to get out. But I'm getting my butt in gear so I can take a break after X-Mas. Enjoy._

* * *

Lament of the Broken 4

* * *

After I had hurried out of that house and went to work, I stayed as late as I could, not wanting to return until I had to. By the time I had left, stopped by a small restaurant to eat, and couldn't drive around much longer, it was pitch black out. When I had gotten home, the clock read 9:15PM.

The houses to either side of mine, are dark, the occupants having settled down just a little while ago. My own house simply has the porch light and the light up in my bedroom on, which I could swear I turned off. As I walk up to unlock the door, I can't help but feel uneasy and unwelcome. Before I can even stick the key into it, the door swings open, frigid air making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I take a deep breath, showing I can be brave, even when I can't see what I'm afraid of.

_This is so stupid. I shouldn't be scared of a ghost...should I?_

As I dart straight for the stairs, I hear the door slam shut behind me, the lock clicking into place. My boots slam against every other step, sliding on the rug as I round the corner too quick. I brace myself against the wall. I don't even look down the stairwell as the sound of footfalls near me, I just keep going straight to my room. Once I have the door secured shut and locked, I slide down it, my backed pressed against it. The wood vibrates as things are slammed up against it, what I would guess to be fists or feet, maybe even shoulders.

Yet I sit there, body trembling as the blows only keep their pace. I raise my eyes from the floor and towards the bed, which is when I feel my heart drop into my stomach. The sheets are pulled up over a huddled form in the middle of the bed.

_Ah hell no...please don't be a corpse...please be alive...please, please be alive._

I push myself to my feet, despite the fact that I just want to run out of this house screaming. The sounds only continue, but are nothing compared to the heartbeat in my ears. I reach out, my fingers grazing over a ripple in the sheets. Gripping it, I keep my eyes wide open, thinking that if I close them, I'll miss something. In a swift motion, I yank the sheets back and find it hard to breathe.

Shaggy, black hair falls around a pale face with light angles. Pure green eyes look up at me, fear and worry embedded in them. Twin scars trail from his eyes, over his cheeks, and ending at his jaw. They're thin and don't appear fresh. What surprises me the most, is that he's not wearing what he had in my dream. No...this time he's wearing one of those hospital gowns, his thin legs pulled up to his chest. I extend my hand towards him, in hopes of him not being dead like he had been in my dreams.

Surprisingly enough, my fingers actually touch his cheek. His attention never sways and neither does mine. The pounding on the door only increases, becoming more frantic than it had been before. Lips form words that fall on my deaf ears. As I try to make out what he's saying, the image of the boy blurs, and when I blink...he's gone.

I growl in anger, flopping myself down onto the spot where he had been. I kick off my shoes and set my keys and phone on the table beside the bed. Clicking off the lamp, I roll the sheets up over my head and close my eyes.

_If I don't see it, it's not there. I'm not afraid of a stupid ghost. Once those guys get here, they'll just tell me I'm crazy and I'll move away again. I'm perfectly fine with that._

_Standing in the middle of a parking lot, I look all around for any sign of life. No cars or people skitter by me, only leaves and trash blowing in the wind. I run a hand through my cerulean spikes and turn around. A large white and black building seems to stretch both ways, never ending. _

_Automatic doors open as I near them, the people inside still as statues. I start for the main desk, but the sight of that boy catches my eye. He stands tall at the next level of stairs, an arm outstretched and a finger curled towards himself, beckoning me to follow. _

_I do just that, my body seeming to move slower than normal. By the time I'm at the first platform, he's already at the next, the stairs being the only thing between us. No matter how hard I push to go faster, I stay at the same speed, never able to reach him. _

_Finally, the stairs are behind me and only a hallway separates us. The urge to get to him and the feeling in my chest I've never known, pushes me to keep walking and not turn back. Even though in my head, I think it's all a load of crap. _

_My attention is drawn back to his lithe form as he turns a corner, the sound of a door echoing in the tiled hallway. The white floors and walls seem to stretch on forever, until finally, I'm at that same corner. A single door sits to my left. A window sits in the wooden frame and I can't help but look through it. _

_There on the bed lies the boy. White sheets are pulled all the way up to his shoulders, tucked around him. Tousled hair lies against the ivory pillow, which almost matches the shade of his skin. The machines around him all extend beneath the covers, wires and beeping noises being all too much._

He's dying.

I'm knocked from my dream as someone shakes my shoulder. Opening my eyes, I glare at the person doing the waking. Long red hair is pulled back into a ponytail and beady brown eyes stare at me. Black designs are tattooed on his forehead and form his eyebrow, while more peak out from the collar of his black t-shirt. Bolting upright, I shove his arm way. "What the _hell_ are you doing in my room! Better yet...Get. The. Hell. Out!"

He shrugs and slips his hands into the pockets of his scoffed jeans. The red head only laughs at me, backing up to lean against the wall. "Geez, we come to help and you don't even have the nerve to be awake."

I run a hand over my face and throw my legs over the side of the bed. "If you don't get out right now. I'll chunk you out the window. Got it?"

A new voice sounds from the open door. "We're SPT are you going to get up and show us around?" Ebony strands fall down to his shoulders, even slightly farther. Gray eyes move from me to the red head in front of me. Brown slacks hang from his hips, while a white button up shirt is tucked into them.

It slowly clicks and I point to the door, "Just let me get changed."

The dark haired man turns, the red head following right at his heels. The second the door closes, I'm at the closet, pulling out jeans and a deep green shirt. I merely slip into a new pair of socks and exit the room, heading straight down the stairs.

Four people are scattered around the room. Two of them sit on the couch with the TV off. The tall, black-haired male from upstairs has his eyes closed, seemingly uninterested. The one beside him has short ebony hair, falling to the nape of his neck and shaping the angles of his face. A long sleeved, gray shirt adorns his torso and black pants on his legs. Dark eyes are hid behind glasses, those eyes trained on the male standing just at the threshold of my kitchen. His hands are up, as if placed against an invisible barrier. Spiky, orange hair falls around his face, somewhat shielding light brown eyes as they form slits. His shoulders slowly sag from under the long-sleeved, white shirt. An ebony vest sits over it, the chains connected to both sides jingle as he turns his attention to me.

I sigh, "Okay, so who let you jerks in?"

The red head scoffs, "You're stupid door was wide open. Maybe you should lock it."

I take a deep breath, trying to resist walking over to him and ripping his head clear off his shoulders. "This thing did that for me."

"So that's why you were hiding under your sheets." the red head continues to taunt.

But before I can say a word, the one that had also been upstairs, stands. "Stop it Renji." He turns his attention away from the man and back to me. He points to each person as he identifies them. First to the couch, "That's Uryu Ishida, he monitors tech." Then back to the red-head. "That's Renji Abarai, our own personal skeptic."

The orange-haired man walks up to me, extending his hand. "I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, psychic and medium." With his other hand, he gestures to the man that had been talking. "And that's Byakuya Kuchiki, the founder of SPT."

Uryu glances over his shoulder at me, "So tell us about this ghost you have."


	5. Chapter 5

_Really wanted to get this out before I have to get off, so it's not exactly proofed. I apologize in advance for the small and large mistakes that may appear, and I know I at least made some...I just don't know where. So anyways, Enjoy~!_

* * *

Lament of the Broken 5

* * *

After shaking Ichigo's hand, I sit down on the stairs, my legs trembling slightly from the fact that they actually came. Ichigo flashes me a gentle smile, obviously noticing how freaked out I am. "Start at the beginning."

"Well...I've dreamed about this boy possibly dying because of this...man. I've had doors open and slam, that damned piano plays on its own, someone has..." Thinking of a way to describe being hugged and kissed and held, I can feel my cheeks grow uncharacteristically warm. "...touched me. There's been these cold spots, not to mention noises."

Uryu gets to his feet, and I notice that he's been writing down every word that I've said. "What kind of noises?"

"Footsteps, pounding, whispers...I guess the usual for you guys." I say with a light chuckle, masking over the nerves, that only continue to bundle up. "Oh and I've had a knife thrown at me."

Ichigo's eyes look up the stairs, right where they connect into the hallway. Byakuya strides over to the medium, the slight hint of worry in his emotionless, gray orbs. Turning those eyes onto me, his lips are set in a frown. "Anything more recent? Maybe yesterday recent?"

"I touched the boy, who I'm not sure is dead or alive." I massage my temples, "It confuses the hell out of me. He was on my bed, then he wasn't. Not to mention I dreamt he was in a hospital. Aah, tell me I'm crazy."

A smirk lines Renji's lips. "Fine, you're crazy."

Uryu shoots the red head a glare. "Leave him alone or else." The threat at the end puzzles me, until my brain slowly catches on.

_Ah, got it, they're together. What a _perfect_ couple._

Byakuya gestures for me to move, "Go sit with those two, I'll take Ichigo to survey the upstairs. Once we come down, show those two around up there so Uryu can set up his equipment."

I move to go lean against the wall where Ichigo had just been, watching as the two men climb the stairs, whispers slipping between them. I shake my head, not believing that this is happening, a real skeptic till the end I am. "So what do you guys do while you're here?"

As he bends down, picking up something, and walks around the edge of the couch, Uryu kneels down. A two large suitcases are set in front of him. While he opens them up, probably calculating certain things in his head, he answers me. "We let Ichigo do a walk through. Usually we don't let him know anything about the house, but this place had an incident a couple years ago. You're lucky Rukia knew who you were, because you didn't give us an address." Closing the cases, he motions for Renji to come over to him.

"After that's done, I'll set up my cameras, recorders, and motion detectors. From three to six in the morning, we'll have dead time and see if we can get any evidence of paranormal activity. If we do, we'll try to debunk it all afterward. Then, depending on how bad it is in actuality, we'll either cleanse the house or exorcize it."

"You're going to...exorcize my house? As in...?"

"Expelling any negative entities or forces that are here." Renji states as he bend down, picking up both of the cases the second they're clicked shut.

A pair of footsteps draw my attention. I look up at the stairs as Byakuya and Ichigo make their way back down, Ichigo's slightly tan face, now pale. Neither say a word as they step off the stairs, heading toward the room with the piano. Uryu and Renji are at the stairs, my feet going up first so I can show them which rooms are which. At the next floor, I stop at the first door, the barren room. "Are you putting one in there?"

Uryu only nods, walking past me and opening the door. "One camera should be fine."

Renji enters the room and before either of us and follow him in, the door is ripped from Uryu's hands and it slams shut. The red head's irritation is obvious as his fist slams into the door from the other side. "This isn't funny! Let me out Uryu!"

"Why don't you just open the door."

"It. Won't. Budge!"

After that last syllable is uttered, all falls quite on the other side of the door, followed by a hard plunk. I look at Uryu out of the corner of my eye, gauging his reaction. Just as he tries to open the door, jingling the handle as much as he can, I hear a yelp coming from downstairs.

_Just great. Not only am I crazy, they're crazy. I should have just left and never looked back._

Exhaling heavily, I turn on my heel, sprinting back down the stairs. My eyes scan everyone, but all doors are shut and the rooms empty. "What the hell? Did they leave?"

The sound of rustling and mumbles draws my attention to the hallway, which leads to the piano room. Nearing it, I reach out toward the knob, twisting it slowly before throwing it open.

I'm met with Byakuya's back, one of Ichigo's feet raised to push against the door frame. Byakuya's hand have a hold of the rail, which holds up the few jackets in there, his other is wrapped around Ichigo, holding him close. Ichigo's cherry red face and wide eyes says more than they need too.

Rolling my eyes I turn around, "You know, you should be looking for my ghost, not making out in a closet."

Another yelp, followed by a groan comes from the orange-haired one, as Byakuya had spun around, glaring at me. "We can leave."

Outright laughing, I start back up the stairs, "So can I. But I want to find this boy."

_Why did I say that? I don't care about that stupid guy! He's dead for all I know. I should worry about myself. Especially since I just might need some therapy after all this is over. Maybe they'll but me in an asylum to boot. I sure as hell wouldn't believe myself._

I reach the second floor, only to see Uryu yanking the door open, Renji falling onto his back, eyes still locked straight ahead. His ashen face seems frozen in confusion mixed with horror. Uryu kneels down beside him, trying to logically coax him into explaining. But I immediately see what did the trick. Right above where Renji's head probably had been, is an eight inch steak knife sticking out of the splintered wood.

_Well, now that the tough guy is down, I think they all believe me._

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I lean against the wall, keeping the two adjacent to me and the two on the first floor in my sites. "So when do we get this ghost out of here?"

Now back to his normal color, Ichigo draws my attention, "The second it gets dark out, we'll be back. Uryu and Renji will stay here with you and finish setting up equipment in _every_ room. We need to go get some more tools."

Byakuya and Ichigo turn to go and I give my attention back to the two on the floor. "Is he going to be okay?" Before hearing the answer, he's turning around, Ichigo at his heels as they leave.

I watch as Ichigo's words slowly click in and Renji jumps to his feet. "No way in hell am I staying here!"

Standing in his way, I smirk at his lost composure, "I thought you were the skeptic?"

Uryu picks up one of the cases Renji had left behind. "Would you get over here and help me set this up? You're not leaving so you might as well get over here."

He grumbles under his breath, turning back to the brainiac walking into the room, the room that I'd never dare go into. Once the cameras are set up in that room, I go ahead and open the door to my room, not even looking in as they set up the equipment in there. With that done, they come back out, placing motion detectors in the hallway and on the staircase, before we return downstairs.

While they're setting up more tech equipment in the kitchen and living room, I find myself drawn back to the dining room. My joints automatically bend and stretch, my body planted firmly on the piano seat, my hands in my lap. Time ticks away, the sound of the two in the next room arguing, keeping me locked in the present. I glance through the draped window, realizing that already, it's slowly starting to get dark.

_How long did I sleep? Probably past noon. That would explain things._

Raising a hand from my lap, I let my index finger fall onto the key farthest to my left, my position already being on the left side of the piano seat. The note echos in the room, temporarily blocking out the voices coming from the two investigators. As I walk my fingers along the ivory keys, each tone seems to make me fall further into my mind, out of reality.

I'm able to tilt my head down, watching my fingers fly over the keys at decent pace, producing that same sorrowful melody I had heard that first time.

I can't even feel my fingers moving. I see it, but that's all. I can hear the sweet melody, accompanied by footfalls nearing my form. Still, those digits of mine, soar over the keys, pressing down with just the right amount of force, before moving onto the next.

_Wait...why can I see myself playing the piano? Am I out of my body?_

"Hey, what are you doing?" Renji asks, his hand clamping onto the shoulder I can't feel.

Receiving no answer from me, Uryu waves a hand in front of my face, his shocked face turning up to Renji. "Go call Byakuya...He might need to hurry back sooner than expected."


	6. Chapter 6

_Oookay, I'll run this through real quick, I have an extreme headache so bear with any misspells that I happened to not check and stuff like that. I'm turning into a comma whore so if you find some out of place, just chill kay?_  
_Now, it was supposed to end but because I need to get off and go to bed, I ended it here. Good: you guys/girls get it sooner. Bad: more info on Ulqui is delayed further. ^^ Also, I don't know what I was on when I wrote Renji's part earlier...Could've been that ghost show. Anyway, don't like cursing? Deal. I refuse to alter it. :D  
So enjoy. Review. And...eat a cookie._

* * *

Lament of the Broken 6

* * *

I look down at my transparent body, not understanding why I can. Next to me is my body, still playing that damn piano, except, my eyes are dull and glazed over. Uryu whispers something to Renji, who then leaves the room. Placing a camera on the top of the grand piano, the red light comes on, recording my body as it plays the haunting melody.

I try to walk forward and place my hand on the piano, but it goes straight through. My brows draw together in irritation as I wave my hand through it time after time again. Panting, I turn back to Uryu as he stands, looking for any sign of foul play.

In no time at all, I hear the front door open and hushed voices emerge. Byakuya, Ichigo, and Renji come into the room. Two pairs of eyes fall onto my body, but Ichigo's look straight at me. He walks around the others, so that he stands right in front of me. "Why are you over here?"

I scoff, "You tell me. All I did was sit down at that damned piano." Ichigo turns away from me and I throw my arms up in the air, "Great you can't hear me can you? What a liar!"

Looking at me over his shoulders, his eyes narrow. "Shut up. You didn't ask for a response. Now do you want your body back or not?"

Immediately shutting my mouth, I watch as he makes everyone move away. Ichigo takes the seat beside me and places a hand on my shoulder and the other on the piano. As I blink, I find myself standing not in the dining room, but my room upstairs. All my things are missing, they spots they occupied are vacant. At my side is Ichigo, transparent just as I am. His eyes glance at me, before returning to the boy lounging on the bed, the same boy as all those times.

Slim legs are swung over the edge of the bed, tight black jeans adorning them. A checkered, black and green t-shirt hangs on his torso, only low enough to graze the top of the pants. Emotionless, green eyes lock onto me as he walks forward, completely ignoring Ichigo.

"_You're going to save me right?"_ a slim black eyebrow rises ever-so-slightly, barely noticeable from under his jet-black hair. I go to respond, only to find out that I can't talk. The guy, appearing as though he's nineteen, maybe early twenties, actually smiles. He gets closer and places a nimble hand on my chest, leaning up to press his lips against mine. _"Thank you...Grimmjow." _

I can feel the heat rise to my face, in anger or embarrassment, I'm not quite sure. The scene around me slowly dissolves, turning to white, then finally fading to black. As it does, I can _feel_ a hand fall onto my shoulder and words being repeated to me, over and over. I try to open my eyes, only to find that it's easier said than done.

Suddenly, I'm propelled backward and my eyes shoot open. I'm greeted with Ichigo and Uryu kneeling beside me. I push myself up onto my elbows, glaring at the one I know did it. "You didn't have to hit me you know."

Byakuya merely scoffs, "We have work to do. No time for your lollygagging." He receives several shakes of the head from the two beside me, as he walks out of the room with Renji behind him.

Uryu follows right after, leaving me alone with Ichigo. As I rub the back of my head, I climb to my feet. "So...what just happened?"

"You were possessed in a way. Now tell me what you saw and heard."

"You mean you didn't see any of it?"

Ichigo shakes his head, "Nope. All I could see was an empty hospital room."

Not able to resist, I have to laugh, "That wasn't it at all!" Calming down, I walk over to the piano, pulling the cover over it, to protect the keys. "We were upstairs in his room and he...asked me to save him."

"Was that it?"

I can feel the flush returning to my face. Walking past him, I hurry to find the others, not wanting to answer the question further. Telling him that the guy kissed me won't help the investigation.

Byakuya stands at the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. Ichigo strides out of the dining room and up to him. Byakuya sighs, "Alright, Renji, you'll go upstairs into the unused bedroom. Uryu will stay down here with the computer and keep an eye on the rooms on the first floor. I'll be going into the bedroom with Ichigo and our client." He turns on his heel, already making his way up the stairs, with Ichigo behind him.

Renji trudges up next, a frown clear on his face. On the other hand, Uryu sits down at the couch, opening the laptop, which had been sitting on the table. Feeling me looking at him, he gives me a nod to head on up. I take a deep breath, glancing around at just how dark it is. Halfway up the stairs, Uryu turns the lights off in the living room, leaving me only to walk upward into more darkness.

The three stand in the hallway, Renji already stepping into that dreaded room. Byakuya waits in the corner for me to pass by, then he leans down to flick the motion detectors on. As I walk into my room, I notice the camera up on the wall, filming the whole length of the hallway.

Inside, I lean against the wall, Byakuya moving to stand in front of the dresser and Ichigo already sitting on the bed, his legs hanging over the edge. A camera sits in Byakuya's hands, as he rotates it to capture the whole room. Ichigo closes his eyes, as he holds the small recorder in his hands, "Starting Dead Time, 2:56 AM."

_I was out for that long? But...it only felt like a few minutes. Are the time spans really that different? What the hell did I do to deserve this? I didn't ask for ghosts._

I stare at the floor as the two investigators slowly slip into the beginning of the questions. Ichigo doesn't seem to move, but merely raises a finger to point at the door, which sits to my left. "Bya, can you open the door?"

Doing as he's told, Byakuya walks over to the door, opening it slowly, so a sound doesn't come from it. Apparently he doesn't see anything, for he shuts the door. Just as he returns to his spot, banging reverberates off of the door, never breaking for a second.

Ichigo only sighs, "Ignore him, we're don't want to talk to him just yet."

At that point, the banging comes to a halt, silence settling back down around us.

Byakuya angles the camera at Ichigo, probably taking in the whole bed as he does. "If you're the boy that lived in this room last, come forward. Did someone hurt you?" No noise comes through, even Ichigo stays still as a statue. "Knock once for yes, twice for no. Did someone hurt you?"

A single knock reaches my ears. I turn my head to the side, looking to see if Ichigo had moved. But, even if he had, he wouldn't have been able to reach _inside_ the closet and return to his spot in time. Pulling a walkie-talkie from his belt, Byakuya clicks one of the buttons on the side. "Uryu, is Renji moving around at all?" After a brief second, Uryu responds with a simple no. Byakuya replace it on his belt. "Was that you knocking?"

One knock.

Ichigo opens his eyes, facing the closet, "Did you die here."

One knock...two knocks.

Byakuya and Ichigo's eyes seem to connect, an emotionless expression and a perplexed one seem to communicate without words. Ichigo runs a hand through his spikes, "Is that why I can't make contact with you?"

One knock.

"Are you still here because of the one that hurt you?" Ichigo continues to ask.

One knock.

That's when it clicks, raising my eyes from the carpet, I bite my lip, wanting to second guess myself. "Are you in that hospital I saw?"

One knock, this time closer to the wall beside me.

_That's it. I can't just stay here and wait for something to happen. This guy could die._

I spin around, away from the wall, and reach for door. Inches away, my fingers freeze mid-air as a scream, not a yelp, sounds from the other room. Before I can throw the door open, I can hear the beeping from both motion detectors going crazy. I'm out the door and trying to open the other, while Ichigo hurries to turn the devices off. Byakuya stands beside me, his calm voice only slightly rattled. "Renji, stay calm and talk to me."

"Just get me the hell out of here! Now dammit!"

Byakuya sighs, "Tell me what it is, but keep your camera pointed at it."

"Fuck you Kuchiki. This creepy son of a bitch is about to stab me and you're telling me to calm down! Go screw your boyfriend and eat a muffin, I've got all the time in the world!" comes his yells and sarcasm.

Normally, I'd be laughing to death, but since I completely understand what Renji is talking about, it only makes me struggle, to get the stupid door open, more. Finally, the door gives way and I'm flung backward, my back hitting the wall. Renji stumbles out, launching the camera at Ichigo, as he flies down the stairs without a look back at us.

I look to Byakuya, only to see his eyes trained on the knife protruding from the door, just as it has times before. He walks over to it and pulls it from the door, "Where did this come from?"

I only shrug at him as I pull myself to my feet. Slipping past both of the investigators, I start down the stairs. Ichigo calls out to me and I stop, looking over my shoulder at him. "Where are you going Grimmjow?"

"Look, you take care of the house and get that homicidal ghost out. I need to go save this kid." and I run out of the house, probably leaving them gaping at me as I go.


	7. The End

_^^ I tried to tie in as much as I could with actual backgrounds from Bleach. Hope it worked. Not to mention my attempt to bring more actual Bleach characters into the story._

_Thanks to those that read and left inspiring reviews to continue; FutureMangaka, hpalabay, Legend of Zelda 4 life, LovefromSlytherin-AMLF, Paninibunny, Nyanna Nyx Felesian, and all those that didn't review._

_And to those that I couldn't respond to:_  
_unknown: I'm glad I could have you on the edge of your seat. Hope you enjoy the yaoi ;)_  
_grimmxulqui: ^^ Glad you liked the closet idea. It was given by the lovely AMLF_  
_summerrayah: I think bittersweet endings are the best, but I just had to have a happy ending for this._  
_Y: Thanks for the encouragement to continue._

* * *

Lament of the Broken 7

* * *

I can hear someone yelling at me as I skid around the front of my truck, opening the door and slipping inside. The engine cranks up and their calls are muffled by the noise. I flick on my lights and push my foot down onto the pedal, turning away from the curb and onto the road.

Honestly, I have no idea where I'm going. But my limbs move automatically, as if I _do_ know where I'm going and just don't realize it yet.

Because it's such a big city, by the time I pass the second hospital, I find myself internally freaking out. I have half the mind to just turn around and go back home, but then they'd all think I was crazy. Then again, I did just leave them in that house...with that homicidal ghost.

As I turn onto a road, which I've never been on, rain spots my windshield. Droplets splatter down, getting heavier with each drop, and I turn the wipers on, but it doesn't do much to clear the rain. I suffer through it, leaning so close to the steering wheel, that I'm literally on the edge of my seat. It's a good thing no one is really on the road this late er- early.

I continue to drive, keeping my eyes peeled for anything amiss, especially since I would rather not get into an accident. My eyes stray from the road, looking at the street signs to try and find out where I can turn off at. When I drag my eyes back to the road, I see a figure standing in my lane, arm stretched out, pointing to the road to the left. I slam my foot on the brake, closing my eyes as I skid to a stop.

No impact. No scream. Just the windshield wipers trying to keep the rain at bay.

I sit there, staring at the spot where the guy had been. Not bothering to question it, I slowly get the truck back into motion, going the way I was directed to go. Darkness stretches along both sides of the road and I'm not sure whether it's just vacant areas, or forest. After what seems like forever, I glance down at the neon green lights, which read 4:43AM. Just as the three turns into a four, a chill spikes through me, reaching from my head to my toes, giving the sensation of numbness.

Shaking the feeling back into my limbs, I grumble incoherent words, not even sure of what they are myself. But my grumbles slowly drift back into silence as I realize that I'm parked in a hospital parking lot. The lights from the inside shine out into the puddles of rain at their doorstep. Cracking the door open, I slip out of the vehicle, water splashing up at me as well as down.

I bolt for the transparent, double doors, wanting to get in there before it looks like I had just gotten out of the shower. No others cars seem to block my way to the front of the hospital, only one here or there. As if everyone just stayed inside tonight, not that I blame them. Every couple of steps, I slip, only managing to catch myself at the last second. Even as I make it under the overhang, it does nothing to shield me from the wrath of the storm.

_I guess that's what happens when I don't watch for changes in weather. It just figures...it all likes to crash down at once._

The frigid air of the hospital hits me head on, instantly making my teeth start chattering. I walk up to the front desk, my legs soaked from my thighs to my shoes, which are probably full of water too. My hair droops slightly into my face, while my thin shirt clings to my chest, making me feel like I'm wearing Saran wrap. The lady at the desk smiles lightly at me. Her soft, gray eyes turn up at me, short white hair fanning out at her cheekbones, two strands meeting into a single strand that hangs down, beads strung along it. The woman stands, a few inches taller than myself, probably concerned about the expression on my face, which is mixed between horror, worry, and a blankness.

"Just...Just..."

_I don't know his damn _name! _How am I supposed to find him now?_

My fingers ball into fists as I turn around, glaring at the room. I find my eyes widen, the transparent figure of that boy stands at the top of the stairs. The hospital gown fans out around his knees, making him seem frail, giving the feeling that if someone touched him, he'd shatter. Black locks sway out from his face as he prepares to turn, just as a person walks through him.

The woman that had done so smiles at me, showing only kindness and tolerance. Long, black hair is pulled in front of her, which is braided down over her white doctor's coat. Blue eyes wander over me, before settling on the girl that is still standing behind the desk. "Isane, have you taken care of this man?"

"N-No Dr. Unohana."

"It's quite alright then, I'll take it from here. You may continue with the paperwork." She comes to stop in front of me. "And how may I help you..."

My mind blanks on details as I stare at the stairs over her shoulder. "I'm...I'm looking for this guy. He's got scars, that look like streaks over his cheeks. Um, he had been stabbed in the stomach..."

"Oh yes. That would be Mr. Cifer."

"Can you tell me his room?"

"Are you family or friend?"

"Well no, but you see-"

"Then I can't tell you. I'm sorry, please wait till visiting hours are open tomorrow."

I bite the inside of my cheek, "If you don't tell me where he is, I'll just find him my damn self."

I try to step around her, but Unohana stays in my path. "That can't happen. I have to ask you to leave, or I'll call security."

"Just get out of my way woman!" Not caring, I duck around her, shrugging my wrist away from her as she reaches to grab for it. I dart up the stairs, not listening to her as she beckons for me to return, before turning her attention to Isane.

Keeping my hand on the rails or walls, I make sure I don't slip and fall. As I pass each room, I look inside, searching for the one I'm looking for. At the middle of the hallway, I pause for just a moment, hoping to catch my breath. Bent over, with my hands on my knees, I tilt my head up to see bare feet just at the end of the hallway, those feet as white as the tile they're standing on. They pivot, walking down the next hallway on the left. The adrenaline stocks back up in my body, as each time I round a corner, I see that transparent man turning the one I should take next.

Being it so early in the morning, no nurses or doctors crowd my way, this section probably only being for those that have been in the ward for so long. Finally, at the end of the current hallway, the dark haired youth looks back at me, before turning the corner, disappearing into the room. Panting, I skid around the corner and latch onto the silver handle. Before going in, I take a peak through the window, my breath catching in my throat.

I calmly walk into the room, the door shutting behind me. Only a couple machines are hooked up to him; an IV sticking into his arm and other wires attached to monitor his heart. I sigh heavily, unaware that I could ever feel something so intense for another being, especially one that I honestly know nothing about. Standing by his bed, I reach down, curling his pale hand into both of my tan ones. The twin scars fall beneath closed eyes, his lips only slightly parted. Unaware of a reason, I lean down, brushing my lips over his.

Just as I pull away, the consistent beeping is shattered by that of a single, drawn out tone. All of a sudden, people pour into the room, shoving me out as orders are shouted to one another. Which leaves me standing at the closed door, next to another figure, who holds a Styrofoam cup in his hand and appears about the age of twenty-seven.

Dark gray eyes narrow at me as he walks over to the wall, leaning up against it, staring at the blinds that cover the window, which would normally give a preview into the room. He crosses his jean clad legs, the sleeveless, black shirt clinging to his torso. Three lines trail over the his right eye, ending at his cheek, scars from something or other. Two tattoos adorn his face; the number 69 on his left cheek and as well as a blue stripe crossing over his left cheek and the bridge of his nose. A choker, which resemble the bands on his forearms, runs around his throat. They're dark gray, black, lines connecting the bottom and top of the choker, which span at inch interval all the way through said choker. "Who are you?" he asks, blowing the steam coming out of the cup, which I assume contains coffee.

"I'm...a friend. Name's Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and who are you?"

The man scoffs, "You're a friend and you don't know who I am? Some friend." An awkward silence settles for a brief moment, until he sighs, "Shūhei Hisagi, Ulquiorra's brother."

I raise an eyebrow, moving closer so that I'm not blocking the door, "But you have a different last name."

"Different dads." He tilts his head back against the wall, his short, black hair falling over his closed eyes, as if he can see what he's going to tell me. "I never knew my real dad, save for the name Kensei and that he had a 69 tattoo. Mom started dating again right away, from what my grandmother told me. When I was six, she got pregnant with Ulquiorra and married that man...Aizen." Shūhei laughed lightly, "Why am I even telling you this?"

I stay silent, only really able to shrug and nod for him to continue. To my surprise, he actually does, especially since he seems to be more of a withdrawn type.

"I hated Aizen instantly and once Ulquiorra got old enough, I tended to protect him quite a bit. When Mom died, it got worse." His hand lifts up and his fingers linger on the scars over his right eye. "The second I turned eighteen, I knew I had to get out, but I also knew that I couldn't just take Ulqui from him either, being a respected lawyer and all that. So I left, leaving Ulquiorra behind with that monster. They moved a lot after that, making me always loose contact for months."

Shūhei takes a sip from the cup, acting as though I'm not even here, and that it's all just him reliving it. "It surprised me to find out that, Ulquiorra hadn't left after he turned eighteen, and he had just turned nineteen. I knew something was wrong, so two years ago, I returned to get him away from Aizen. When I got there...I found blood all down the stairs and Ulquiorra half dead in the kitchen. Since then, he hasn't woken up."

"What about...Aizen?" I ask, testing the name, kind of worried that he might pop out of nowhere.

He merely shrugs, "They killed him, when he tried to kill them."

My brows draw together, my mind not able to wrap around the idea completely. But my concentration is broken as all the personnel leaves Ulquiorra's room. The doctor from earlier walks over to us, as I internally debate on if I should kick it into high gear and get out of here. She glances over at me, but assumes that I'm with Shūhei. "You're brother is awake if you'd like to see him. We'll run some tests tomorrow, but I'm sure we'll be releasing him right after."

Not caring for details, I go past Unohana as she talks to him. I push the door open and find myself staring into deep, forest green eyes. A blank expression is all that shows and as I walk over to the side of the bed, I feel disappoint sinking in.

_What if he doesn't know me? Remember me? Realize I'm here...because of him?_

I take a seat on the edge of the bed, his legs moving over for me. Mentally, I want to slap myself for still being so rude, especially to him. But, Ulquiorra reaches for me and I meet him halfway, our hands gripping the others'. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, making me realize that it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my whole life. No man, woman, or cute, little animal could ever compare. "Do you know me?"

Ulquiorra scoffs, the attitude ringing clear as a bell, "Of course I know you, you dunderhead."

"Watch it or I'll pop you upside the head, I don't care if you're in a hospital or not!"

A soft laugh comes from him, sounding just as sweet as his voice. Just then another joins us, "So who are you anyway?"

I glance at Shūhei over my shoulder, not sure what to say to man lightens up as his brother's eyes connects with his. "Shūhei, this is Grimmjow, the one I came back for."

_He says it so...matter-of-factly that it scares me, far more than a knife being thrown at me. It means...my feelings, that I had no idea I had, are reciprocated. _

Standing up, I lean down, pecking Ulquiorra's forehead. "I'll be back tomorrow. I'm sure he wants to talk to you alone."

As I walk away, I hear them both slowly start a conversation. I intend to head straight to my truck, yet this time, I take the elevator. Just as I go to walk out the door, I spot Unohana out of the corner of my eye. "Why didn't you say you were with Mr. Hisagi?"

"Would you have believed me?" The woman merely shakes her head, the doors parting as I walk out, the rain not bothering me one bit.

_Once I had gotten back to the house, I learned that they did a cleansing, an intense one at that, so it was good that I had left. That afternoon, they all left with promises to keep in touch, well maybe not Renji. But it's been a year and no other activity has even so much as sparked up. Which is a surprise, since the second Ulquiorra got released from the hospital, he moved in with me, as surprising as that was. Shūhei didn't have a problem, and neither do I._

A knock comes from the door and I hurry out of the kitchen to get it. Opening it wide, I find Ichigo and Byakuya standing there. "What are you two doing here?"

Byakuya glares at me, "We're checking up on everything."

"And you couldn't have just called?" His lips pull into a straight line as I hold back a laugh. "Whatever, come on in. I cleaned out the closet if you two wanna go back in there."

Ichigo blushes, pulling Byakuya into the living room and away from me, probably in case the dark haired man decided he wanted to stab a fork in my face. I return to the kitchen, where Ulquiorra stands at the stove. Grinning like a cat, I walk up behind him as quietly as I can, wrapping my arms around his waist. I kiss his neck, staring down at the fish he's frying. "Is it done yet?"

"If you don't want it burnt, you'll stop feeling me up."

Frowning, I humph and let go, marching over to the fridge to grab some wine, then over to the cabinet to pull out four glasses. Balancing them all in my arms, I carry it all to the dining room and set it out on the table, which has already been made for four. Pouring some into each glass, I set the bottle in the middle of the table and walk out. As I do I pass the closet, and find myself opening it, since I hadn't seen either of them in the living room where I'd left them.

"We were upstairs in that room. I wanted to make sure there wasn't any lingering energy." Ichigo assures as he steps off the stairs, Byakuya behind him.

I shut the door, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, just come on in here and sit down. I'll be right back." I head back to the kitchen, as they go in and sit down, puzzled looks on their faces. The second I cross the threshold, Ulquiorra hands me two plates, "This is ridiculous, why do we have to let them eat our food?"

"Shut up and go."

_I've never entertained _anyone_ for dinner. This _will not_ be fun._

Walking back into the dining room, I set a plate in front of both of them, before taking my own seat. They sit on one side of the table and I on the other. Ulquiorra is right behind me, handing me my own plate as he takes the seat beside me. Byakuya raises an eyebrow, suspicious for sure, "What's this for?"

Ulquiorra's mellowed expression battles Byakuya's, "A thank you for everything, since Grimmjow is to embarrassed to say it."

"Oughta make em pay for that rod in the closet, which was dented..." I mumble, receiving a slap upside the head. "Yeah thanks for getting that creep out of the house."

Ulquiorra sighs, "You're such a child."

"But you love me." I shoot back, a definite statement.

"I couldn't help it." He says, giving me a kiss on the cheek.


End file.
